Wouldn't it be good if the rich paid more tax?

To be brief, yes it would. Very much so.

In normal family situations, those who earn the most shoulder the biggest share of financial responsibility. They do not then expect the biggest returns. They do not expect the biggest portions of food, the most comfortable armchair, or first dibs on the Sky remote.

So why do we view things differently when it comes to tax? Why do we place the burden of tax and public services on those who are able to contribute the least? Why should above-average earners pay less in tax, simply because they use fewer public services? In family terms, this would be the equivalent of Dad drinking his wages whilst Mum supports herself and the children on income support.

We have a perverse attitude to taxation. We view it as the government robbing individuals of what is rightfully theirs, in order to line the pockets of the idle. Too often we fall for the nonsensical hyperbole of the political right, who perpetuate scare stories of scrounging single mothers and asylum seekers.

This takes away from the real story: everyone suffers when public services decline, be they high earners or not. Lack of access to health services, for example, results in higher rates of sickness. In turn, this reduces the working capacity of the workforce, with a knock-on effect for productivity and earning potential.

In short, everyone loses when public services are put out of reach of the many.

Instead, we should view taxation as the way in which individuals and businesses support and strengthen society, by providing essential public services that are funded collectively. We should be shifting the financial burden onto above-average earners, and reducing the financial penalties for not being middle class.

May 1st is local election day in some parts of the UK. I shall be using my vote; if you have one, I urge you to use yours. Please vote for candidates who recognise the real problems in the way this country is structured. If you can, vote for candidates who pledge to:

- Rapidly increase redistribution wealth from the rich to the poor, through taxation and increases in the minimum wage;

- Oppose public-private partnerships and other vehicles for private companies to make profits out of public services;

- Work to reduce consumption levels substantially across the economy, thus limiting demand and reducing materialism; and

- Redistribute more private profits to social enterprises through business taxation.

Then I would suggest reading Oliver James' fine essay The Selfish Capitalist for another perspective on what is really wrong with the way this country operates.

Full of democratic goodness

I'm all for colourful politics - unless Boris Johnson or any other member of the Conservative party are involved, of course - and Italy's parliamentary system never fails to throw up a surprise or two.

As if the prospect of being governed by right-wing conservative capitalist Silvio Berlusconi wasn't depressing enough, a man in Naples staged his own one-man demonstration against the establishment.

Upon receiving his ballot paper, he proceded to eat it in front of polling station officials. Declaring that all politicians were "crap", he explained that he was protesting against the system.

Perhaps officials should have been more specific about which slot to insert ones ballot into.

Thirty-six

Rain
Droplets
Cascading
From cloud cover
Far above my head.
Just an april shower;
It will soon depart
Leaving behind
The scent of
Refreshed
Earth.

Word of the week

Taxidermy: the vague, uncomfortable itching sensation one has after riding in a minicab.

I aten't dead

Guess who I met the other day? None other than one of my favourite authors, the multiple best-seller writer Terry Pratchett! How cool is that?

Not that I happened to just run in to him, though. The occasion was the official opening of the new planetarium at the INTECH Science Centre near Winchester, which I was privileged indeed to attend

INTECH is a wonderful, hands-on science education centre located just a mile or so outside of the city, set in a purpose-built, space-age facility nestling in the Hampshire hills.

Terry Pratchett notwithstanding, the real star of the show was the impressive new planetarium which, I am informed, is the largest digital planetarium in the UK. We were treated to a breathtaking flight through the universe (no safety belts needed) and were given a taster of the sorts of educational demonstrations that would be staged.

The technology really is rather marvellous. A genial Texan, who worked for the company that installed the projector equipment, enthusiastically espoused to me the potential uses of the enormous dome. These go way beyond stargazing, and could conceivably include chemical modelling, biological applications (a journey through the human body, anyone?) or even for promotional use during corporate events - no more tedious Powerpoint presentations

Oh, and I was nearly run over by Sir Patrick Moore in the atrium. Another brush with fame...

Classified information

It's amazing what one can spot in the small ads. Opportunities for life enhancement abound. Take these gems spotted in Tuesday's edition of the Metro, for example:

Mr Habib - specialist for love, domestic family problems, substance abuse/addictions, impotence, breaking black magic, success in exam/career and business etc. Quick positive result, pay after result.

(Quite a broad remit, then.)

Hawaiian Lomilomi Massage - fluid, rhythmic, dance-like and unrivalled at releasing very deep and chronic muscle tensions. Two hours of healing sunshine from the heart through the hands.

(Available in that well-known Polynesian outpost called Guildford.)

Bloating/wind, digestive and bowel problems - three month mail order homeopathic detox treatment plan.

(A snip at £300.)

Overcome shyness - master public speaking, conversation skills and build confidence FAST!

(Though their web site doesn't actually give a postal address. So much for coming out of oneself.)

Alternatively, if the myriad opportunities for sperm donation do not appeal (or apply), and you are not a user of injectable facial aesthetic treatments (and thus cannot contribute to a focus group), one can always emigrate to Australia. A free seminar in Kensington will help you do just that - particularly if you are a nurse, civil engineer, computer engineer, auditor or boilermaker.

Sounds safer to me.

Justice

Steve Wright has been convicted of multiple murders of prostitutes in Ipswich.

I sincerely hope, however, that society does not launch into a knee-jerk emotional campaign to bring back the death penalty - as the victims' families have called for. The immediate aftermath of high-profile criminal investigations is certainly not the time to reassess fundamental aspects of justice.

Personally, I totally oppose the use of death penalties, for three reasons:

1) It precludes completely the possibility of rehabilitation, irrespective of whether or not this is possible;

2) Justice is not perfect. Miscarriages of justice that result in the death penalty cannot be corrected after the execution has taken place. One could argue that you cannot completely correct any case of false imprisonment, but false imprisonment does not permanently deprive an innocent person of their very life; and

3) Death penalties tend to derive from two motivations: to protect society from further harm, and to exact vengeance. In this modern age, we have many ways of successfully removing people from society permanently without killing them. Further, there is no scenario in which I could support a process of justice that is driven by a desire for revenge - this makes false convictions much more likely.

In an enlightened society we must be able to rise above our base emotions in order to do justice in a fair and balanced way. That is why Britain has an impartial, apolitical judiciary and a commitment to fair trials. That is why we have courts of appeal. That is why false convictions can be quashed. As soon as we dilute the rights of either the accused or the victims, we shift the balance of justice and risk prejudicing the outcomes of trials.

And then which way would Lady Justice lean?

Discovery of the day

There are such things as anti-MRSA pyjamas.

I came to learn this during an idle wander through the menswear section of Marks and Spencer this afternoon. Apparently, their antibacterial properties come from silver thread woven into the fabric.

I resisted purchasing a set, partly because they cost £40 - which is pretty pricey for clothes that I will spend most of my time unconscious in - and partly because the erstwhile M&S have chosen designs that appeal almost exclusively to elderly gentlemen and LBC listeners.

However, it is comforting to know that innovation and fertile imaginations are still at work in the world of sleepwear.

Round the mulberry bush

If you work closely enough with educational policy, you inevitably reach two conclusions: one, nothing ever really changes; and two, the British government's view is at odds with the rest of the known universe.

This is a prime case in point: a recent report suggests that English primary school pupils are amongst the most tested in the world. The Department for Children, Schools and Families rejected the findings.

Educationalists have been saying this for years. For one thing, we know that traditional examinations and tests are a largely ineffective way of measuring learning. They are very good at measuring how well prepared a candidate is for the system, but are exceptionally unreliable in forecasting how effective the learning process will prove over the longer term.

Secondly, the argument in England is that testing provides information that parents can use to make informed choices about the schools they send their children to. This theory, however, is startlingly limited in scope. Whilst the concept of free choice works in areas where there are many schools within close proximity - large cities, for example - it falls spectacularly to pieces in rural settings, when the nearest alternative to the village primary is, say, four miles away.

Responding to the BBC's "Have Your Say" strand, Andrew from Wakefield hit the nail on the head in one sentence: "it's not about improving the standard of education or the quality of parental choice, it's about providing statistics."

Standardised test results in primary schools are largely a tool of political expediency. Their nature and scope actually contribute little to the improvement of teaching and learning, and tell parents and communities remarkably little about their local schools.

The Secretary of State needs to accept the views of the education profession: league tables will not result in better schools. Only a fundamental redesign of the National Curriculum, coupled with a more quality audit-like approach to school inspections, will encourage greater innovation in teaching methods and therefore higher standards.

But, I guess we will just keep going round in circles.

Six quirks

The ever-genial Dr But Why? has very kindly reminded me that I haven't updated this blog in a while. Quite a while. A month and a bit, in fact.

Oops.

There are perfectly good reasons for this (well, one more-than-perfectly-good reason, to be precise), but with any luck normal service will resume as soon as I have a few spare moments and lashings of pseudo-intellectual inspiration.

In the meantime, the good doctor has kindly tagged me. My task, should I choose to accept it (and I blatantly already have, so why I had to say that I really do not know), is to share six non-important quirks about me with the world at large.

So here you are.

1. I play badminton in an incredibly odd way: I serve with the racket in my left hand, but simply must return shots with it in my right. This necessitates a rapid switch in the nanosecond or so immediately after serving.

2. My accent is rather unusual. It is a bizarre mix of scouse, north Welsh and home counties. My pronunciation of "Liverpool" amuses a certain someone no end.

3. I can rotate my hand about the wrist joint through 180 degrees, so that the back of my hand is on the same plane as the inside of my elbow. This is not, in fact, painful in the slightest.

4. I am still a regular listener to BBC Radio Merseyside, despite the fact that I now live in Hampshire. In fact, I made a pilgrimage to the impressive new studios on Hanover Street during the Christmas break.

5. My brain seems to collect useless trivia, possibly due to spending lunch hours browsing through Wikipedia.

6. Despite possessing an extensive vocabulary and advanced reading abilities, I nonetheless have a blind spot for the words "shopfitter" and "shoplifter". This could potentially be embarrassing, particularly if I am ever to swing into action before thinking through the consequences.

There you have it. As it is now tag-back time, I nominate only Lola and Caramaena - largely because most of my readership seems to have disappeared over the course of 2007...

Pearl of wisdom

Spotted in Bury, Lancashire last year

Thought for the day

If a Scouser is in mortal danger, does he beg for Mersey?

Surprise, surprise

Life is full of surprises; some are pleasant, some not so. Here is a selection of surprises that caught my eye recently:

* Michael Jackson was surprised to need emergency surgery after being accidentally punched in the face by his infant son.

* Miners in Jadar, Serbia, surprised the world by discovering a deposit of kryptonite.

* There is such a thing as a theme park dedicated to Charles Dickens.

* Humans have been ice-skating for four thousand years.

* Those of us who make our beds every morning might be risking our health in the process.

Whatever surprises come your way this Christmas, I hope they turn out to be pleasant, enjoyyable, meaningful, and life-enhancing.

Happy Christmas to all!

Off in a motor car

A close approximation of the KindaBluemobile

I'm seriously considering whether I could live a car-free lifestyle.

It occurred to me the other day that, since moving to the centre of town, I no longer drive every day. When I lived out in the sticks countryside, hardly a day would go by when I wouldn't fire up the old internal combustion engine. I had to get to work, for one thing; forty minutes each way in my last job, and ten minutes in my current role. Whenever I needed a few groceries I would have to drive to the supermarket three miles away. Day trips out usually necessitated a car, too, despite one of my former rural homes being ten minutes' stroll away from a handy railway station.

Nowadays, however, I take a train to work every morning. I have a gym, two supermarkets and an entire shopping mall within a short stroll. The only times I ever seem to use my car is when I go to my Portuguese evening class - once per week. I do occasionally drive to work, but only to keep the car battery topped up.

For all of this, I am paying road fund licence (about a hundred pounds a year), insurance (about two hundred), and maintenance costs (about two hundred and fifty, if I'm lucky). All this, so that I can learn how to ask the way to the bank in Lisbon.

I'm reluctant to take the final step, though. For one thing, having a car at ones disposal is incredibly useful if, say, someone organises a day out which is off the beaten track (also known as South West Trains). It comes in handy around holiday time, too, as I can jump in the car and head north (although this generally involves sitting motionless a few miles short of the Lymm Interchange for hours at a time. Deep joy).

So, all in all, I think I'll keep the KindaBluemobile for a while yet. It's served me well for over five years now, despite putting up with some rubbish from yours truly over the years. It was kept every evening for three months in arctic conditions somewhere in Dorset a while back, and started uncomplainingly every time. It has a small dent in the passenger side door, due to a collision with a two foot high metal post at one mile per hour (well, it was dark at the time). It has even put up with my infrequent valeting and my seriously non-mainstream taste in music.

There's life in the old fellow yet.

A New Labour Christmas

You're getting nowt for Christmas
Forget about that bike
Santa's stuck on the M25
And his elves have gone on strike

Frosty the Snowman's been gritted
Due to health and safety laws
And Rudolph's stuck in quarantine
'Cause he had no pet passport

Fish and chips for Christmas lunch
Mince pies for pud at best
We've twenty quid to buy the food
'Cause Farepak took the rest

Revenue and Customs
Have lost our home address
We won't get family credit
'Til they've sorted out this mess

The school nativity's cancelled
So as not to cause offence
Royal Mail lost our cards
Has no-one any sense?

And we can't go up to Lapland
There's a surcharge on the flights
The Christmas tree is coming down
Tesco recalled the lights

Is nothing sacred any more?
It all seems such a sham
When the model of baby Jesus
Was made in Vietnam

A proposal

Proposal to eliminate the use of the word "key" as an adjective in professional contexts

This author moves that English-speaking society introduces a strict code prohibiting the use of the word "key" as an adjective.

Rationale

Leaf through any official document, and one can be almost guaranteed of coming across one of the many situations for which the word "key" is used as a substitute for a much more useful descriptor.

Given that our language is spoken by hundreds of millions around the world, and is imbued with the richness and diversity that such a global acceptance brings, there is no good reason for such linguistic laziness. Indeed, the word "key" is often invoked in order to add a superficial veneer of professionalism and faux importance to otherwise meaningless passages, in keeping with the typical manner of business jargon.

Consider this sentence, for example: we will leverage the synergies of key stakeholders to achieve against the deliverables. A more measured - and infinitely more meaningful - translation would be: we will make sure that significant people cooperate and do what they are committed to. A vast improvement.

Indeed, "key" is often used to substitute for other meaningful adjectives such as "important", "vital", "popular", "frequent", "urgent", "disruptive", "disastrous", "intensive", "defining", "helpful", "useful", "busy" and "productive".

Scope

This prohibition would apply to all those charged with producing documents or delivering speeches that are targeted at by more than one other person. This group includes - but is not limited to - civil servants, politicians, journalists, novelists, playwrights, football commentators, blog authors, academics, students, revolutionaries, counter-revolutionaries, anarchists, freedom fighters, business leaders, call centre operatives, consultants, medical professionals, and Tony Blair.

Locksmiths are specifically excluded.

Penalties for violation

First offence: mild rebuke
Second offence: stern rebuke
Third offence: withdrawal of tea and coffee privileges for a period no longer than three weeks
Fourth offence: compulsory attendance at a Basingstoke Town FC home game
Fifth offence: permanent exile to Milton Keynes

'Tis the season

This song always puts a smile on my face around December time. I'll even forgive the archaic spelling. Enjoy!

The night has a thousand eyes

The phrase "walls have ears" took on an entirely new meaning in Bavaria this week.

Police in the southern German city of Ingolstadt arrested a sixty-year-old landlord who had installed cameras and microphones in the bedrooms, bathrooms and living areas of two flats he owned and had rented out. For ten years this chap had been videotaping tenants and their guests as they showered, slept, and generally went about their daily (and nightly) business. The plot was only foiled when one of the tenants discovered the high tech surveilance equipment whilst cleaning the apartment.

Though this landlord appeared to have sexual motives, according to police, this whole case harks back to the 1980s, when Soviet hotel rooms would be bugged in an attempt to intercept capitalist enemies of the state. It all makes you think, though. The place you call home could well have all kinds of history attached to it - as that unfortunate family in Margate discovered the other week, when it turned out that their home was the former lair of a serial killer. You never know what sort of events might have taken place in your own home before you ever set eyes on it.

Fortunately, my current apartment was only built five years ago, if that; barely enough time for a prosecution for noise pollution, let alone mass murder or domestic espionage. In any case, it's so badly constructed that any surveilance equipment installed in the wall cavities would probably short out due to the damp.

So, if you suspect your landlord to be stalking you, then simply hide the dustbins, draw the curtains, and start looking for suspicious holes in the walls. Remember: just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean that people aren't spying on you getting undressed.

Inner needs

Ah, Google - the fount of all useful knowledge*. I did this one a while back, but I thought I'd try out the Google "needs" experiment once more. If you've not heard of this, basically one enters " [your name] needs" (including quotation marks) into Google and see what the rest of the world recommends for you.

Herewith, the results.

According to the Googlesphere, KindaBlue** needs...:

...to have a summary of the report a couple of days before the meeting.
...to come and do the wiring.
...to be released from Washington.
...to resign!
...to assert himself.
...to look to the government to cover the shortfall.
...to get the ball more this year.
...to shoot twenty times per night. ***
...a car too.
...a counterpart.

Most of this, actually, sounds hauntingly reasonable. A tad more assertiveness wouldn't go amiss, and I attend so many meetings these days that I wish someone would give me summaries sometimes. And I definitely need a counterpart... Could Google have the foresight of Nostradamus? Try it out today, and be sure to let me know the results.

My rates for electrical contracting are very reasonable, too, by the way.

* As opposed to Wikipedia, the fount of all useless knowledge.
** Real name substituted here, of course.
*** Steady on.

Jingle all the way

It's officially Christmas in Basingstoke. It must be; they've been putting up the lights since October. I didn't see much of Basingstoke's Christmas illuminations last year, but I have to say that this year's efforts are rather impressive. Around the station forecourt they have the most startlingly effective blue decorations; not a colour I would have instinctively chosen, but it works. There was also a magnificent firework display on Friday evening, for which my apartment's terrace was the best vantage point in the town.

The chances of being mown down by a pushchair in BHS have also increased exponentially, which is another sure sign that the festive season is upon us. These aren't your usual pushchairs, either. Mothers in this part of Hampshire seem to have a particular fondness for the sorts of pushchairs that have room for everything. There are storage shelves, hooks for hanging things on, retractable hoods, and the sorts of vulcanised rubber wheels that can literally leave one flat-footed. These are more like armoured personnel carriers than infant transportation. I wonder if the Defence Diversification Agency are involved somehow?

I love Christmas, though. There's a kind of joyous innocence about it all; the chance to spread a little happiness and enjoy oneself with no sense of guilt whatsoever. It's the time of year to dress up in bright colours, eat lots of mince pies, and generally unleash your inner big kid. Last Christmas wasn't the most fantastic of times for yours truly, but this year is going to be different; a good, old-fashioned season of excess and enjoyment. I urge all of you to do the same.

I'm not doing any Christmas shopping until December, though. There are some limits.